This is the killing fields, of the minds of Gods.

From the breast to dirt you walk with death,

make friends with this mighty king

or do battle with mind slayers in the land of Oz.

The bones of the Gods, in an old talking stick.

Neteru thoughts, smoked by shadow,

on the backs of crocodiles, I ride for what’s Good.

Rallying totems you can’t possibly know.

Arise young corpse, from everlasting Black Mamma.

A top hat and black feathers,

let your eyes shine like quasars.

Find the will to push on,

you are the Suns of Ra.

At this celebration of the loss of your innocence,

them say you blind, but this world is in darkness.

let them eyes shine,

endure little ninja, and move as one fist.

Here breathe, you desolate force,

fill yourself with fresh air.

Lucent spirit like moon dew,

impermeable, a plow shear beat into a sword,

live once more!

An apothecary of souls,

shamanic alchemist.

This is wormwood,

crackle, of the thunder dragon’s return.

 xanga@houseofthedragon.net    © Jean-Michael Holmes  2017